March 20, 2011
Even though it may seem like it, our whole world is not filled with grief. There are very normal things that happen here. There are even smiles. Big ones. There are moments when laughter, usually giddy, uncontrollable, little boy laughter unfurls its wings.
Remember when you were little and crabby and someone, like [throat clearing] your mother, would start making fun of your pouty lower lip. First would come the 'if you're not careful, you're going to trip on that lower lip' comment. Then would come, 'Betcha can't smile' in that sing-song voice. By the fourth or fifth time you heard, 'Betcha can't smile', you were indeed smiling. Grinning from ear to ear. You just couldn't help it.
Smiles and laughter are still infectious, even in the midst of great tragedy and wholehearted sadness. That little smirk or big cheesy grin still illicit the same response. I still smile. My heart still fills with unending love and adoration for a little boy who absolutely and without any shadow of a doubt stole my heart.
Oh yes, that laundry had all been folded. It was carefully stacked on the floor in the hallway waiting to be tucked into drawers and stacked on closet shelves. I turned my back but only for a moment to find that Hurricane Channing had struck again. I laughed and laughed as I took those pictures. He was having too much fun for me to get mad.
We had a date with Uncle Joe at the Mall of America this week too, stopping at both Nickelodeon Universe and Lego Land before meeting Grandma Kathy for a bite to eat. Channing LOVED the roller coaster and riding Mr. Bunny on the carousel.
I loved every shriek of delight and every peel of laughter. I couldn't help but smile myself.